Mechanical Door

The online conversation with her necessitated a quick smoke break from night class.

The smoke escapes my lungs, mingling with the breath hanging from my mouth on this snow covered silent night outside Xavier Hall. The automatic door will lock if I let it close, trapping me away from the things that I must complete if my night is to continue.
Each inhale is stolen from time supposedly dedicated to learning about column carvings of the ancient Incan people, a task which seems to drain my will to live far more then I thought when I signed up for the class. The vagina dentada is a lot less exciting then it seems.
Each time the door closes, reminding me to go back to class, I resist, pushing it back out, forcibly allowing myself more time to smoke, to break. It closes again, and my arm is not completely willing to fight again, the motor working against my slowly relenting arm, until I remember to attack, to push against, not just hold. My break continues, because I feel it must. I am actively making my body cold, my lungs weak, my education worse, all because I need this time, this time to think.
I mound up the snow in front of the door, but its subsequent closing smoothes out my efforts, and I must push again. The time to think is no longer my reason for braving the weather, for avoiding Incan repousse. I am actively in battle with this door, this mechanical demon with a predestined idea of how long I need the door to be open, how much time I need.
I have come to enjoy the cold, in a masochistic way. The cigarette burns slowly against the silent walkway between buildings, and I gear up for another attempt to turn back the inevitable whirring motor.
Again it closes, and again I repel its assault. The door allows the same amount of time between each attempt to close off the weather, seemingly oblivious to me, the adversary. No attempt to fool me or overpower me, no attempt to call reserves or sound an alarm. There is no attempt to make peace, or surrender, no attempt to form a treaty allowing me my time, just relentless, mindless closing. There is nothing in this mechanical beings existence that allows for someone standing outside, seeking time before returning.
With one last inhilation, I reenter, succumbing to the inevitable, but as I whipe my feet on the matt I feel the door closing again behind me. I reach out and push it open, sending a signal noone will hear, nothing will understand.